


The Perfect One

by HouseofTheBear



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A little angst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Christmas Tree, Dogs, F/M, Flirting, Meet-Cute, but it ends happily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28402284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseofTheBear/pseuds/HouseofTheBear
Summary: Daenerys finds herself in search of the perfect Christmas tree. Little does she know that she will find something else that's just perfect for her. A Jorah x Daenerys Modern AU.
Relationships: Jorah Mormont & Lyanna Mormont, Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen, Missandei & Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 35
Kudos: 44
Collections: Winter Jorleesi 2020





	1. Do bears have shoulders?

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't realized how long it had been since I last posted something. But, like a bolt from the blue, the idea for this story hit me and practically wrote itself. And yes, there will be more chapters after the first five posted today.
> 
> I want to thank clarasimone for her unwavering support and proofreading. You push me to keep writing :) And another 'thank you' to chryssadirewolf for the amazingly perfect moodboard you see below. She read my mind about the dog, I swear!

“Where did you say that Christmas tree lot was?”

There was a brief pause on Missandei’s end of the line as she thought, “The corner of Main and First, across from the bookstore.”

“Oh right,” Daenerys replied, “I think I passed it the other day.”

“It’s small, but they have a very nice selection. So, you’re finally getting a tree?”

“Yeah, and it’s about time too. I’ve never really celebrated Christmas, not like everyone else anyway.”

“I couldn’t have survived that. No tree, no decorations, no carols.”

“Just expensive gifts that I never really wanted,” Daenerys supplied with a rueful laugh. She sighed, “Well, this year, I’m going all out: a party _and_ a tree.”

“I can’t wait! It’s going to be so much fun,” Missandei said excitedly.

‘Fun’ wasn’t a word that had been in Daenerys’ vocabulary for at least the last year. With all the trouble her brother had caused and then his subsequent passing, enjoyment was the furthest thing from her mind. Despite the fact that the bank was going to be taking her home, the one she had grown up in, a month into the upcoming new year, she wasn’t the least bit upset about it. She was… _relieved_. It held too many bad memories within its vaulted ceilings. She had been scrimping and saving and had a cute little flat lined up ready for her to move into on the First of February. She was _so ready_ to be on her own, living her own life, doing what she wanted to do, when she wanted to do it.

“And you’re still helping me plan this, right,” Daenerys asked.

“Oh absolutely! I wouldn’t pass up the chance to make the best first Christmas party ever with my bestest friend ever!”

Daenerys laughed. Missandei was the best friend a person could ask for. “Good, because you know I’m shite with party planning.”

“But great at bargaining and mediating, the former of which might come in handy when haggling the price of your tree.”

“All right, I’ll give you that. Tomorrow’s Friday and my evening’s free.” _Just like all my other evenings_ , Daenerys almost added, but didn’t. “I’ll go pick it out then.”

“Get a tall one. Your ceilings can handle it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Daenerys teased, laughing.

“Cheeky,” Missandei shot back, a smile in her voice.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow. ’Night.”

“’Night.”

Daenerys hung up and stared at the open space in front of her. With the large stone fireplace to the left and the giant picture window to her right, she could nearly picture her perfect tree there, festooned with soft, twinkling white lights and shiny baubles of red and green. She already had the decorations ready, having purchased what she had thought at the time was way too many. But, now with Missi’s suggestion, perhaps she had bought just enough.

*~*

The lot was right where Missi had described, just across from her favorite bookshop and one bus stop away from her downtown office. Crossing the street, the cheery strings of white lights and candy cane painted wooden fence posts surrounding the corner beckoned her with their festiveness. She was nearly giddy at the prospect of buying her first tree, realizing that this was probably how children felt once they were old enough to understand the holiday. The slightly chilly air nipped at her cheeks and nose, but she hardly noticed it, her mind occupied with the vision of the perfect noble fir. She had decided on that particular type after much research, wanting a tree that would fill the house with its scent and have strong branches to support all of the decorations she planned to have.

Approaching the entrance, she noted the large painted sign and she smiled at the grinning brown bear carrying a tree slung over one shoulder. _If bears even have shoulders_ , she wondered. ‘Bear Island Farms’, it read and she reasoned they must be the suppliers, but more likely proprietors, of this business. Not two steps in and the scent hit her, stopping her in her tracks. It was like walking through an evergreen forest, the crunch of fallen needles under the soles of her high-heeled boots and the crisp, fresh smell of, well…Christmas. That was really the only way she could define it, it overwhelmed her in the best way and she wanted to stay there forever. It was an exaggeration, but only slightly.

_I can’t believe I went so long without **this** ,_ she decided. And she made up her mind right then that she would shop for a tree every year. With a happy sigh, she set off in search of the owner. Some people milled about in the neatly labeled rows of trees, but it wasn’t as crowded as she had expected. _Perhaps the daytime was busier._

Douglas Fir? No.

Fraser Fir? Nope.

Balsam Fir? Nah.

A dog appeared from between two smaller trees, and upon seeing Daenerys, trotted over, its tail waving like a flag, its tongue lolling out of a mouth that looked very much like it was smiling.

“Hello there,” Daenerys said when the animal stopped at her feet and sat down, one white paw lifting to rest on her slightly bent knee. She extended her hand, letting it sniff her before she tried to pet it. “Well, aren’t you just adorable?!”

Its almond-shaped eyes gazed up at her as it panted, its golden-reddish coat soft between her fingers. It had a brown leather collar on, but she couldn’t quite make out what the round metal tag was engraved with, except for an ‘S’. A noise sent its left ear swiveling in that direction and the dog was gone, off to discover the maker of the sound. Daenerys loved animals, always had, but had never been allowed to have one of her own. But eventually having a pet was definitely on her to-do list.

Just then, a child ran out from one of the rows, bumping into Daenerys as he ran from his sister, who was chasing him with a tree branch nearly as long as she was tall. It sent her stumbling back, instantly regretting her choice of footwear. She teetered and tumbled right into something big, solid, and… _warm_ , sending them both into a heap on the needle-covered earth. Strong arms encircled her and lifting her head, she realized she was currently laying on top of a man. A _very_ handsome man, with blue eyes, widened by shock and ginger curls, sprinkled with needles.

“Are you all right?”

_Gods, his voice is like chocolate_. “Um, I…uhh…”

He eyed her with concern. _He probably thinks I have a head injury, what with my babbling._ _Get it together._ “I’m fine. Are _you_ ok? I mean, you are fine.” She shook her head, wincing. _Smooth._ “I mean, you look fine.” She cringed. _Not getting any better._

She couldn’t help her surprise when he smiled. An actual, genuine smile, that reached all the way to his eyes, crinkling the corners in a way both adorable and sexy. “I’m all right.”

At some point falling into his baby blues, Daenerys realized that she was still on top of him and she scrambled to disengage herself, even though this man didn’t seem the least bit troubled by the fact that she was sprawled over him. She didn’t mind it either, not at all. He was broad and warm; his well-worn russet-colored flannel shirt was soft against her palms. His thighs were strong beneath hers, but not overly bulky. _Like a footballer_ , she thought. And she couldn’t be sure, but he seemed disappointed when he realized her intent to stand.

“Let me just get off,” she said, her owlish eyes darting up to meet his as she got to her feet, hoping to the Seven he didn’t hear her.

His smile broadened into a grin. _Gods, of course he heard me. Ground, open up and swallow me._ “I didn’t mean—”

Jorah cut off her haste to explain as he stood. “I know,” he reassured her, even as his eyes danced with a familiar brightness.

They were flirting. Something Daenerys hadn’t done in a while, but now realizing it, had sorely missed. Maybe it was just because it was with him. He seemed interested, even though she had made a right fool of herself so far.

She stuck out her hand, hoping to salvage this introduction. “I'm Daenerys.”

“Jorah. Nice to meet you,” he replied, dwarfing her hand in his own with a gentle handshake.

“I'm looking for a noble fir.”

“Right this way,” he gestured for her to follow.

“Hey,” a young woman's voice called out just then and Jorah turned. “This man's ready to check out. He wants some of the trunk trimmed.”

“I'll be right there.”

“I can handle it, _cousin_.”

Jorah held up his hands, “Just don't cut off anything important.”

The young woman rolled her eyes even as she was smirking. Taking the protective eyewear from its perch on the top of her head and pulling it over her eyes, she gave the power chain a hard yank and the chainsaw roared to life.

He turned back to Daenerys, “My cousin, Lyanna.”

“She seems like a real spitfire.”

“You have no idea. Now, you wanted a noble fir.” Daenerys nodded and they started off again. “About how tall were you looking for?”

She looked up at Jorah, “Your height, maybe taller.”

“Over six feet then,” he supplied, a smile dancing in his eyes.

Daenerys knew her cheeks were pink from the cold, but she felt them redden further. He clearly wasn't put off by her clumsiness or her nervous rambling. That had to be a positive sign.

“Here we—”

The row was nearly empty, save for the few remaining trees that weren't any bigger than her. Crestfallen, she gazed up at Jorah to find he seemed to share her sentiment. “I'm sorry, I thought we had more nobles.”

“It's ok,” she said, even if it wasn't.

“No, it's not.” He turned to her, “I can tell your heart was set on one.”

“How did—”

“When you've been in the business as long as I have, you can read people fairly well.” Then his expression lightened, “Wait right here, I'll be back.”

Daenerys watched his retreating form as he jogged off to a short trailer by the entrance that served as a temporary office. While she waited, she thought about Jorah's comment about reading people. Just how long _had_ he been doing this? He didn't seem older than his early forties, even if his ginger-blonde beard was flecked with a few grey whiskers. His eyes were kind, and despite his height and the breadth of his shoulders, he wasn't the least bit imposing. She found she wanted to get to know him more, but she still wasn't sure if Jorah would make the first move and ask her out. _Maybe I'm reading too much into this and he's just being nice. He is trying to make a sale after all._

She didn't have time to think on it further as Jorah was on his way back, his expression decidedly positive. “I called the farm and we have a few nobles that fit your needs. I could pick one for you or I could text you some pictures and let you decide.”

“Is that your way of asking for my number,” she flirted, her lips drawing into a grin.

His gaze dropped briefly before it lifted again, his feet shuffling, his hand rising to rub at the back of his neck, “Did it work?”

That was the most adorably bashful thing she'd ever seen. There was no way she could say no. “Can I see your mobile?”

He blinked, a little confused. “Uh, sure,” Jorah answered, reaching into the pocket of his dark wash jeans.

“Old school, huh?” She held up the earlier model iPhone, with its dinged edges and the screen a maze of spiderweb cracks, it had clearly seen better days. After swiping it open, she noted the home screen displayed only a few icons.

“I only use it for the basics.”

He seemed almost ashamed of that and Daenerys instantly felt bad for teasing him. “My work has me using all sorts of apps, but I prefer simplicity too.”

She entered her number and handed it back to him. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

“So do I.” Realizing what he said, he quickly corrected himself, “I mean, I look forward to calling you.” His cheeks flushed and he shifted his stance again.

_Could this man be any more adorable,_ she wondered? “I better get going.” She nodded to the growing crowd behind him, “I don't want to keep them waiting.”

“Oh, right. Well, goodbye...Daenerys.”

His voice sent warmth flooding through her body, her name on his lips sounded divine. “Bye Jorah.”

As she walked away, Daenerys swore she could feel his eyes on her. Glancing back, she found she was right, a small smile on his face, one hand tucked into the pocket of his jeans. Jorah waved with the other and she did the same, leaving the lot giddy for an entirely different reason.

*~*

“So, did you get her number?”

Jorah looked up to find Lyanna leaning against the entrance to their tiny office. “What?”

“Oh, come on. You know what I'm talking about.”

Jorah signed. _How did his love life suddenly become so interesting?_ “Yes.”

Lyanna whooped, startling Spenser from his nap. “I knew it. You owe me twenty.”

“Huh? I didn’t make a bet.”

“Of course you don't remember.” Sitting, she beckoned the now wide-awake dog to her. He went happily, eager for scratches. “When I won the Northern Fencing Championship, I bet you that you'd have a date by year's end and you agreed.”

Jorah rolled his eyes. “It’s called ‘sarcasm’.”

“Seriously,” she deadpanned. Shrugging, she continued, “Whatever. I'm just glad you finally grew a set and asked a woman for her number.”

Shaking his head with a laugh, he went back to counting that day's take. When he was finished, he paused, eyeing his mobile and tapping his fingers on the chipped wooden desktop.

“Go ahead and ask.”

His gaze snapped to her. “Should I ring her now? Or...,” He groaned, his head dropping into his hand, “I'm so out of practice with this.”

Lyanna's eyes softened. “Wait till tomorrow, you don't want to seem overeager. And call, don't text. It's more personal.” She stood and walked to the door, “You really like her, don't you?”

“Yes,” Jorah said softly.

“I'm glad for you, cousin.” She smiled genuinely, “Even though I may give you shit sometimes, you deserve to be happy.”

Jorah had no response for Lyanna, still a bit taken aback by her behavior. She had always busted his arse for one reason or another, but apparently it had come from a place of love. A paw on his thigh drew him from his musings and he looked down to find Spenser gazing at him thoughtfully. “She's right, isn't she?”

He barked once and Jorah shook his head, muttering, “Of course she is.”


	2. We Need to Stop Meeting Like This

“Why didn't you tell me the owner of the tree lot was gorgeous!?”

“What?”

“Come on, Missi.”

“I didn't know. When Grey and I went, a young woman took care of us.” She paused, “So the owner's a hunk, huh?”

Daenerys blushed, chewing on her thumbnail. “Understatement of the century! And I made a right fool of myself in front of him too.”

“What happened?”

“I tripped and fell on top of him.”

Missi's cackling rang down the line before she stifled it, clearing her throat. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing. You're both ok I take it?”

“Yes, just my wounded pride.”

“So spill. And leave nothing out.”

Daenerys proceeded to give her friend a recap of last night's events, pausing to allow her to squeal and 'aww' at the appropriate moments. When she was finished, Missi had only one question, “Has he called yet?”

“No,” Daenerys replied dejectedly.

“Well, it's early yet and a Saturday. Maybe he's busy. Give him until tonight.”

“Yeah, you're right.” She sighed, “I don't know why I'm so nervous about this.”

“It’s obvious you really like him and he seems like a good guy, a sweetheart really. I'll tell you Daenerys, I don’t know why, but I have a really good feeling about this one.”

If she could be sure of anything, Missi's gut had never been wrong when it came to matters of the heart.

“You know something, so do I,” Daenerys said lowly, as if saying it louder might jinx it.

“I want you to text me the minute you get off the phone with him.”

Daenerys chuckled. “I will.”

They said their goodbyes and Daenerys hung up, deciding that she couldn't sit and stare at the phone all day, waiting for it to ring. So she went to fetch the basket of clothes she'd just washed and dried and began folding them, turning on the radio for some background noise. Little did she know across town there was someone else filled with nervous excitement, someone who was finding just the right words to say for when he called.  
  


*~*

“Hey Daenerys.” “Hi Daenerys.” “Hello Daenerys.”

Jorah let out a frustrated sigh as he paced the floor of their office at the lot. _Why was this so hard? It was just a simple phone call._ He was infinitely glad Lyanna wasn't there to see this because she'd be teasing him something awful. Spenser had come to a stop beside him, and unbeknownst to Jorah, the dog had been walking beside him the whole time. Those normally alert, whiskey-colored eyes held a certain soulfulness now, as if to say 'you got this, dad'. Buoyed by his canine pal's reassurance, Jorah tapped Daenerys’ contact info and waited while the line connected.

One ring, two…

_”Hello?”_

*~*

Daenerys nearly tripped over herself getting to her mobile. The exact moment she decided to go to the kitchen for some tea, the call she had been waiting for finally came in. Knocking over half of her neat pile of folded laundry, she tumbled onto her couch with an _oof_ , almost dropping her phone in the process.

“Hello?”

“Hi...Daenerys. It's Jorah.”

If her breathlessness from before had been minor, it was worse now. That man's voice was even better than she remembered. “I'm glad you called.”

“Me too. How are you? No lingering effects from your tumble?”

He sounded genuinely concerned, not like he was bringing it up to make fun of her. “I'm good. You?”

“I'm fine. Busy, but that's normal for this time of year.” She heard shuffling in the background. _Was he doing that adorably bashful thing again?_ Her heart skipped at the thought. “I, uh, called the farm and they texted me some pictures of the trees. Can I send them to you?”

“That'd be great.”

He chuckled and she had to bite her lip from sighing at how delicious it sounded. “I just realized I have no idea how to text while I'm in the middle of a call. I know there’s a way, I just...” There was more shuffling, and based on the tone his voice had, she knew for certain he was doing the cute thing this time. “Do you know?”

“Yeah, I'll give you the step by step.”

She walked him through it, and despite his saying that he didn’t know how, he followed the directions without a hiccup. It wasn’t long after that that Daenerys’ phone buzzed three times in succession. “Hold on, I just got the pictures.”

Jorah waited, listening to Lyanna close the deal on an eight-foot Douglas fir. He was proud of her, of how good at the family business she was, even if she told him ad nauseum that she was shite at that sort of stuff.

“Jorah, these trees are gorgeous,” Daenerys’ excited voice cut into his musings. “But I think I’m leaning toward the second one you sent, the one with the man standing next to it.”

He knew the one she meant. “That’s the six and a half foot one.”

“That’s perfect. I’ll take it.”

“Sure. It’ll take maybe two days to have it trucked down, then I’ll deliver it to you.”

“You deliver,” her voice holding a hint of surprise.

“It’s a large tree and…well…for you, I would.”

“That’s so sweet of you,” she said before she could catch herself.

Jorah’s short, soft laugh caressed her ear. “It’s no trouble.”

“Ok, I’ll text you my address then.”

“Sure, and I’ll keep you updated on its progress.”

“Great! Thank you, Jorah.”

"Of course.”

“Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

Jorah disconnected the line, a grin breaking across his face.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in…forever. It’s nauseating really.” He shot a glower in his cousin’s direction. “Ah, that’s better.”

Jorah rolled his eyes. “How are we doing out there?”

Lyanna could spot a deflection easily, but she wasn’t having it. “So, did you ask her out yet?”

“How is that relevant?”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

Jorah sighed. “I’m…working up to it.”

“Right.” Lyanna was undeterred, “It’s six simple words, cousin.”

“Well, what about you and that fencing friend of yours?”

She paled at Jorah’s change of subject. “How’s that relevant?”

Jorah shook his head, chuckling. “Let’s get back to work.”

*~*

Sunday dawned chilly with patchy clouds, not the kind of weather one would associate with Christmastime. Bundled up, Daenerys headed out to do some last-minute shopping. Most people wouldn’t consider two weeks till the big day last minute, but she certainly did. At least she knew exactly what she wanted. Thinking of her friend, Daenerys had kept her promise that she’d call right after she spoke to Jorah. After relating what had been said, Missi was convinced Jorah was going to ask her friend out. She was even willing to bet on it.

Daenerys’ mind, however, was still just a tiny bit skeptical.

Jorah sounded interested in her and certainly acted like it, but she had met men before who seemed that way, only for nothing to come of it. And yet, her gut and her heart both knew Missi was right. She had always listened to her mind when making decisions, both big and small. This time, she was willing to try something different and go with her heart.

And just thinking about Jorah sent that organ all a flutter. How could a man be both endearingly adorable and drop-dead gorgeous at the same time? He wasn’t like anyone she had ever met before. Right now, she was debating dropping in to his lot to say ‘hi’ since she was standing across the street. They looked somewhat busy, so she thought better of it and turned to enter the bookshop.

Instead, she ran right into someone exiting, their paper cup tilting precariously in their grip before they saved it, their other hand darting out to her elbow to steady her.

“Oh Gods, I’m— _Jorah_?”

“No, _I’m_ Jorah. You’re Daenerys. Hello again.”

She couldn’t help her laugh at the situation and the teasing amusement alight in Jorah’s eyes, her gloved hands pushing back the hair that had managed to escape from the hood of her coat. “We really need to stop meeting like this.”

“I don’t want to.”

Their eyes met, his soft gaze making her pulse speed up, the pull of attraction bringing them closer. The warmth of his large hand bled through the fabric at her elbow, heating her skin and sending tingles dancing along her nerves. Wearing a sherpa-lined denim jacket and a Henley that really brought out his sky-blue eyes, Daenerys was rendered mute at how handsome he was, his golden-reddish hair glinting in the sparse sunlight. Her memory of him didn’t do him justice.

A loudly cleared throat shattered the moment, making Jorah pull back his hand, much to Daenerys’ chagrin. A surly man pushed past them, muttering something about ‘make moony eyes on your own time’.

They shared a shy laugh before she asked, “Were you heading back to the lot?”

“Actually, I was just on a break.”

"Oh, don’t let me keep you.”

“You’re not.” He glanced down, then met her eyes. “I…would you like to have coffee with me?”

His words were a bit hurried and it looked like he was holding his breath, like he was worried she’d say no. She grinned, “I’d love to.”

Jorah’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Is here all right?”

“This bookshop has an amazing café,” she said, nodding in answer.

He turned and held the door for her so she could enter, falling into step beside her as they approached the counter. Daenerys ordered her usual, a tea latte, then plucked a clear bag of cookies from the basket near the register.

“Have you tried these?” Jorah shook his head. “You need to, they’re delicious.”

She reached into her purse to get her wallet, but Jorah was already paying the tab. “I did ask _you_ out.”

Daenerys could only smile as she took her beverage from the barista along with her baked goods.

They found a table near the window in a relatively quiet corner and sat down. Taking off her gloves, she undid the glittery red ribbon from the bag, took out one of the cookies, and popped it into her mouth, chewing it slowly, her eyes drifting shut. When she opened them again, Jorah was watching her, an amused expression on his face.

“Sorry,” she blushed, pushing back her hood and smoothing down her hair.

“Don’t be. Food is meant to be enjoyed.”

She offered him the bag and he took one. Once he was finished, he asked, “What are they? They’re quite good.”

“Raspberry thumbprint cookies. I could eat an entire bag in one sitting. I’ve tried making them myself, but they never turn out quite right.”

“You like to bake?”

“’Try’ is more like it. Cooking is my thing.”

“What’s your best dish?”

"Chicken piccata,” she answered without hesitation.

“I’ve never had that.”

“Really? What do you normally eat?”

“Stew. Pot roast. Those sorts of things.”

“Hearty dishes.” Jorah nodded. “You’re from the North.”

“Yes, Bear Island.”

"Ah, that would explain the sign at your lot.”

A smile pulled at the corner of Jorah’s lips. “My cousin drew that when she was a little girl. It just kind of _stuck_.”

“I like it. I think the bear’s cute.”

Jorah couldn’t hold back his chuckle, “Lyanna said that bear was me.”

His blue eyes sparkled as she realized the unwitting connection between her words and the bear’s symbolism. A blush spread over her cheeks, and in Jorah’s mind, now she was the cute one. _No_ , he concluded, _beautiful_.

“Have you bought books here,” he changed the subject, not wanting her to feel too embarrassed.

Daenerys took a sip of her tea, “Many times. It’s my favorite bookshop. Have you?”

“Not yet, just the coffee from the café.”

“What section would someone find you in if you were browsing?”

“Fiction, mysteries mostly. History too.”

“Any particular time period?”

“Medieval, but I’m fairly open-minded.” Jorah reached for another cookie and Daenerys pushed the bag closer to him. “And where would someone find you?”

“Fiction, the fantasy section. Cooking or art too.”

“Any particular artist or style?”

“Romanticism.”

“Ah, Blake, Goya, Turner.”

“You know art?”

“I minored in art history at university.” Jorah’s eyes narrowed playfully, “You seem surprised.”

“No, I just…I thought you would have majored in business or something.”

“I did actually.” The muscles in Jorah’s jaw shifted, “It wasn’t my first choice.”

Daenerys sensed there was a story there, but decided not to probe further. A mobile pinged and Jorah reached into his jacket pocket, apologizing as he swiped it open.

He let out a sigh, “Business is picking up.” He met her eyes, “I’m sorry, I have to get back.”

“It’s ok,” she said, even as both of their faces said they were sad to be parting.

Gathering their things, they made their way to the exit. Jorah held the door for her again, following her a short distance to the corner.

“I had a really good time, Jorah.”

“So did I.” He smiled, “I just wish it had lasted longer.”

“Me too.”

“Maybe we could do it again?”

She loved the hopefulness in his eyes. How could he not see yet how attracted she was to him? “I’d like that.”

“I’ll call you.”

He leaned in slowly, his eyes dropping to her lips as if he was going to kiss her. Daenerys swore she felt her heart stop and she wanted to scream when he changed his mind and moved back. Taking charge, she rose to her tiptoes and pressed her lips softly to his cheek, his whiskers tickling her in the best way. Pulling back, she caught his expression as it shifted from surprise to happiness, a dimple she hadn’t seen before making an appearance.

“Bye Jorah.”

“Goodbye Daenerys.”

Reluctantly, he stepped away from her and crossed the street, glancing back once he was safely across. They waved at one another and Daenerys watched until he was inside the lot. Then she let out a soft squeal and did a small happy dance.

Little did she know Jorah had witnessed the whole thing. And that made him very happy indeed.


	3. Everything's Falling for You

“Things seem to be moving along swimmingly with Jorah. A coffee date _and_ a kiss.”

“Well, a short date and a kiss on the cheek, but yes, things are going very well.”

“Are you gonna invite him to your Christmas party?”

“I hadn't even thought about it.” Daenerys worried her lip, “Should I? It's not too fast, is it?”

“I don't think so. I mean, you've spent time around him, do you think he'd say yes?”

“He can be a bit shy at times, but I think he'd enjoy himself.” Daenerys thought for a second, “I'm gonna ask him.”

“I think that's the right choice.”

Daenerys’ office phone rang on the other line and she groaned. “Work beckons. I'll talk to you later.”

They disconnected and Daenerys got back to getting through Monday. It had been a doozy so far and it was only one in the afternoon. _Only four more hours,_ she thought. _I can do it._ She hadn't heard from Jorah since a text that morning letting her know the tree was ahead of schedule and might be ready to be delivered that night. After that, time seemed to crawl. Anticipation had a way of doing that.

Eventually, five rolled around and Daenerys turned off her computer and headed to the bus stop, making it just in time to catch the 5:10. As it trundled along, she watched the people and storefronts with a small smile. All of the white and colored strings of lights, the big red bows, large wreaths bedecked in baubles, and the holiday shoppers bustling about with their bags of presents. It actually felt like Christmas to her. Every other year, it had been just another day. Albeit the fact that there was always an ostentatious gift waiting for her. A diamond tennis bracelet, a designer handbag, or expensive clothes. Things she didn't want or would never wear. Missi was the only person who knew her and gave her a gift that mattered. Even though she didn't have much money, it was the thought that mattered most.

The last three blocks home was always the longest because she had to walk. Not that she didn't like it or didn't want to, it just wasn't all that much fun in heels. Usually she brought a change of shoes with her, but she had forgotten them in her haste out the door that morning. However, the prospect of possibly seeing Jorah went a long way to put a pep in her step. Arriving home at last, she turned on the Christmas lights on her porch and opened her front door, kicking off her shoes and dumping her briefcase beside them. She'd make it neat later.

“All right, all right,” she sighed at the home security system's annoying beep, entering the code to shut it off. She hated that thing and had half a mind to rip it out of the wall. It had never made her feel safe.

Halfway up the stairs, her mobile started ringing and she dashed back to her purse, rifling through its cavernous depths in search of it.

She answered on the third ring. “Hey Jorah.” She paused. “Really? That's great! Could you bring it by tonight or is that not good for you?” Another pause. “No, that's perfect. See you then, bye.”

Daenerys grinned, glancing at the digital clock on her mobile's screen. _Just enough time to make this place presentable._ She'd begun the process of going through things in preparation for the move, deciding what to keep and what to give away. The latter pile was growing by leaps and bounds. But first, a change of clothes was in order. Taking the stairs two at time, she took off the day and pulled on a pair of black yoga pants and a cranberry sweater so long it could double as a short dress. Unpinning her bun, she plaited her hair in a loose braid and pulled on a pair of fuzzy snowman socks.

Heading back downstairs, she put on last night's leftovers to warm, lit a fire in the hearth, and got to work tidying up the sitting room. It wasn't as bad as she thought, and pretty soon, she was curled up under a big blanket on the sofa reading, a half-drunk mug of tea on the coffee table. The ring of the doorbell sent the resting butterflies in her stomach alight and she paused at the hallway mirror to check her appearance before opening the door.

_ One hour ago… _

“Jorah, delivery's here!”

He bounded down the steps and jogged to the truck, taking the clipboard from the man's outstretched hand.

“That was faster than usual.”

“Traffic was light.” Gendry shrugged, “It also seemed like you needed these in a hurry.”

_Just one,_ Jorah wanted to clarify, but held his tongue. It was bad enough Lyanna knew, he didn't need everyone back at the farm to know too. It was too soon. What he felt for Daenerys was fresh and new and _precious_ , and if Jorah was being honest, he wanted to be selfish with those feelings for a while. Bear Island was a small place, which, like a small town, meant word traveled like wildfire. Jorah walked around back and climbed into the bed of the truck, doing a visual count and inspection before signing off. Handing the clipboard back, he started unloading the trees, keeping an eye out for the familiar yellow plastic ribbon. Gendry joined him, and together, they had everything done in no time.

They said their goodbyes and Jorah pulled out his mobile. He dialed Daenerys' number and waited for it to connect. After the third ring, a happy voice greeted him.

“Hello Daenerys. Your tree is here.” A pause. “Yes, it just arrived.” Another pause, “No, that's fine. Is an hour from now too late?” He smiled to himself, “Great, I'll see you then.”

“So you're going to see her again, leaving me high and dry during our busiest time,” Lyanna lamented, the back of her hand against her forehead in a false dramatic pose.

“You've got this. You always do,” he shook his head, smiling.

Lyanna perked up, “Was that an unsolicited compliment?”

“They always are.”

Lyanna grinned, “Ask her out again. I like this version of you, cousin.”

Jorah chuckled, grabbing the keys to his green pickup truck. “I'll be back.”

“If it takes you less than 45 minutes, I'm worried for you,” she called after him, alluding to how long he had been gone on his 'coffee break' the other day.

He waved goodbye, loaded Daenerys' tree into the bed, and set off toward her house. Lyanna had shown him how to use the Map app on his mobile and he followed its directions. He was excited to see her again, but also a little nervous. He'd be seeing her home, a very big, and personal, step in their budding relationship. Jorah certainly felt that's what they had, even if it was just one date. They had flirted like mad in the time they'd spent together and there was no denying the attraction he felt in her presence.

However, his nervousness grew as he pulled up in front of Daenerys' address. He hadn't known what to expect, but this certainly wasn't it. He chided himself for making assumptions, he _knew_ Daenerys and she had never acted nor projected an air of superiority based on the size or lavishness of her home. _Perhaps it was inherited_ , he concluded and got out, walking around back to drop the tailgate and hoist her tree onto his shoulder.

Grabbing the scissors to cut the twine that wrapped the tree up tight, he shoved them into the back pocket of his jeans and followed the cobblestone path to her front door upon which hung a large evergreen wreath. He rang the bell and waited in the soft yellowish glow of her porch light, noticing the potted shrub across from him was encircled in a string of colored lights. He smiled, setting the tree down to glance around at the rest of her decorations. He only managed to take in the fluffy silver garland intertwined amongst the branches of a rose bush before the door swung open.

_ Present time… _

“Jorah,” she greeted him happily, her long braid drawn over one shoulder. He hadn't seen her hair styled that way yet and he found it suited her wonderfully. Her eyes lingered on him a few seconds more than was necessary before they shifted left and widened. “That's my tree!!”

The joy he saw there was infectious and he couldn't hold back his grin. Her dimples had always captivated him and now was no different.

She shook her head, laughing, “What am I doing?! Come in,” she waved, standing aside before stepping forward suddenly, “Do you need help carrying it in?”

“It’s no trouble.”

And as if to prove that fact, he lifted it up to rest on his left shoulder as if it weighed no more than a sapling and walked in. He didn't miss how her jaw dropped a little or how her eyes swept over him appreciatively at his display of strength, even as she was trying to be stealthy about it. 

Jorah’s cheeks felt warm, it had been some time since a woman had given him the once-over like that. But if Lyanna was to be believed, it actually happened quite often. Either way, Daenerys’ eyes on him were the only ones that mattered now.

“Just through here,” she guided him, appearing at his side to lead him into the sitting room.

Warm and cheerily decorated, Jorah couldn’t help but notice none of the furniture fit with what he knew of Daenerys. All hard angles and dark colors in metal, glass, and leather. It screamed ‘ultra-modern’, and perhaps his earlier conclusion was true, she had inherited everything.

“I should have asked before, but do you have a stand?”

“Yes, ready to go.”

“Okay, I’ll hold it while you get it centered and secured.”

Jorah stood there keeping the tree upright while Daenerys knelt and screwed in the anchoring bolts.

“Ow,” she hissed, jerking back and up, her hand wrapping around her index finger.

“Are you all right?”

Jorah let go of the tree and dropped to one knee in front of Daenerys, taking her hands in his own.

“I just—look out!”

He had a split second to turn his back to the tree so it hit him and not her, showering them both with some loose needles. Comically wide eyes locked before they broke into a fit of laughter, Daenerys’ hand lifting to brush the greenery from his hair. _It’s so soft,_ she marveled, her fingers lingering in the wispy waves near his ear.

Their laughter slowly died, but their gazes held. It was only when Jorah blinked that the spell was broken and he cleared his throat, asking, “Is your hand all right?”

“Yeah, um, I just pinched it.”

All he could do was nod as she stood, “Here, let me help you.”

She pushed the tree away from him enough so he could stand, then he took over. It was only when he was at his full height that Daenerys realized just how close they were, her head tilting back to look up at him. There was something in Jorah’s eyes, a spark of something she hadn’t seen in another man’s in quite some time. They dropped down to her lips and she watched as the tip of his tongue unconsciously darted out to wet his own.

“Everything’s falling for you. Me, the tree,” she breathed a laugh.

“I’d rather it just be you.”

Daenerys felt like she couldn’t breathe, his voice having taken on a huskier tone. She had always tried to use humor to deflect certain situations, but now, things were anything but funny. What had been a spark before was now bright and hot and she was caught in the intensity of it…and she never wanted to leave. Jorah leaned in, closer, _closer_ \--

_BUZZ!_

Blinking, they stepped back. “Sorry,” her voice sounding very breathy, “I’ll be right back.”

She ran off to the kitchen, leaving Jorah to scrub his free hand over his beard and into his hair, exhaling through pursed lips. Daenerys came back a moment later and knelt again to tighten the bolt she had obviously missed before. Once she was sure it was secure, she stood and took a few steps back, her hands clasped at her chest. “My first tree.”

Jorah’s head snapped to her. “You’ve never had a tree before?”

“No,” she said, the happiness in her eyes dimming. “My parents never really celebrated Christmas.”

“Now you will,” he asserted and her smile renewed. “Once I clip the twine, that is.”

He chuckled and took the scissors from his back pocket, cutting the rope at strategic intervals to make it fall away easily. The branches fell open, fully releasing their evergreen scent into the room. Daenerys closed her eyes and breathed deep, exhaling with a sigh.

“What,” she wondered at Jorah when they opened again.

“I’ve never met someone who enjoys the little things like you do.”

“I know,” she looked down, “It’s silly.”

“No, I think it’s wonderful. Don’t lose that.”

They spent a few moments in silence before Daenerys remarked, “I’ve probably kept you too long.”

Jorah glanced at his watch, “Not really.” He ducked his head, “I wasn’t going to ask, but when I walked in, something smelled delicious. What was it?”

“That was dinner. Mushroom and spinach risotto with salmon. Do you want some?”

"Oh, I couldn’t, that’s yours.”

“I always make _way_ too much. It was last night’s dinner too.”

Linking her arm with his, she led him into the kitchen. “Take a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water’s fine.”

She stopped unwrapping the foil from the square glass baking dish. Jorah seemed uncomfortable. “What’s wrong?”

“You shouldn’t be serving me. Can I help?”

_This man is so sweet._ “Plates are in there,” she gestured to the cupboard above her, then to the drawer by her hip, “Utensils in here.”

He fetched what they needed and she served them each a portion of the steaming food, letting Jorah carry the plates to the table while she got their beverages. They sat catty-corner to each other at one end of a long banquet table, its surface dressed in a simple red tablecloth.

Tugging the sleeves of his forest green Henley to his elbows, an act that had Daenerys staring at the lean musculature and soft ginger hair he exposed, Jorah dug into the risotto first, blowing softly on the forkful before eating it. A sound of satisfaction rose in his throat and he swallowed, “I’ve never tasted anything like that. It’s fantastic!”

Daenerys ducked her head, “Thanks, I’m glad you like it.”

“You have real talent. Where did you learn to cook?”

“Well, it was either take-away or instant noodles every night at Uni or I teach myself how to make real food. I watched the cooking channel in my spare time, read loads of cookbooks, and had lots and lots of practice.”

“I bet you’ve never made someone sick.”

“Nope.” Her eyes widened at Jorah’s sheepish expression. “You have?!”

“Guilty. My first crack at chicken casserole.”

Daenerys winced. “Who got sick?”

“Lyanna. She still hasn’t let me live it down.”

“How long has she been working with you?”

“Five Christmases now.”

“So who runs the farm while you two are down here? Your dad?” Jorah’s fork stilled and she knew she had touched a nerve. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No, it’s all right. My father passed away a year ago.”

Hesitating only an instant, she reached for his hand and held it gently. The flatness of his tone told her there was a story there, most likely one of regret. They ate in silence for a time, their hands still connected. It wasn’t the type of quietness she had grown up with, one heavy with the anticipation of an angry outburst. It was simply companionable, two people sharing a meal and their presence. It broke when Jorah’s thumb brushed over the back of her hand, following the shallow hills and valleys of her knuckles, the tiny hairs standing at attention from the gentle touch. “Thank you.”

She nodded and smiled, more words swimming in those beautiful blue pools that, for now, would go unspoken. Daenerys was beginning to realize that Jorah said much beyond his words with his eyes, and perhaps with him, she did too.

*~*

Once their plates were cleared, and in the dishwasher, they sat down on the sofa in front of the fireplace, a mug of tea in their hands.

“This looks interesting,” he said, leaning forward to pick up her earlier discarded hardcover from the coffee table.

“Really?”

His eyes met hers, “Yes. You thought it wasn’t my ‘thing’, right?”

Jorah’s teasing smirk had her laughing. “Well, you did say you liked mysteries and history books. I didn’t think fantasy would be your first choice.”

“Maybe not my first, but there are a few I like. Le Guin is quite good.”

“Oh, I love her.”

“Tell me about this one,” he tapped the beautifully illustrated cover.

“It’s about a queen who’s trying to conquer a vast kingdom and the odds seem stacked against her. She wants to be different from the rulers that came before her. Having a dragon might help her cause too.”

“I should think so. Who’s this,” Jorah pointed at the man standing beside what he assumed was the queen, his white cloak flowing in the wind.

Daenerys smiled softly, “That’s her knight. He’s in love with her and she loves him back, but she can’t reconcile her feelings for him with what she has set out to accomplish. She’s always been told that love is weakness.”

“Oh, but doesn’t she know that love is about strength. Only the strongest open their hearts to another, knowing the risk.”

“That sounds like something her knight would say. He’s very wise.”

“I’d like to read this,” Jorah said.

“You can burrow it.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s not like I don’t know where to find you so I can get it back,” she winked. “Besides, I’ve read it a bunch of times.”

A lull passed before Jorah said, “Someone made fun of your books before.”

It wasn’t a question; he had read her earlier. Just like a book. Her father had always told her she was too free with her feelings, that she needed a better poker face.

“My brother used to tease me about my books. ‘Fantasy is for people who can’t handle reality, Dany’,” she parroted, her face twisted up in a haughty expression. Daenerys stared into the fire, chiding herself for the tears beginning to prickle at the corners of her eyes. “It wasn’t that I couldn’t handle reality…I just wanted an escape.”

A heavy warmth engulfed her hand resting on the cushions between them, her eyes drifting down to study the back of Jorah’s hand, the veins like winding rivers beneath smooth skin marred here and there by an occasional small scar. Then she looked up to find understanding in those fathomless blue pools. It felt _good_ to have someone know her the way Jorah was getting to, to see her complexities and glimpse her troubled past and not shy away.

The crackle and pop of the fire were their companions as they finished their tea, holding hands. When they were done, they stood and walked to her front door.

“I had a great time tonight.”

“So did I,” Daenerys agreed. “I’ve kept you, haven’t I?”

“Lyanna won’t be too concerned.” Her brows knit together in confusion. “She told me that if I wasn’t gone longer than forty-five minutes, she’d be worried about me.”

Daenerys still didn’t get it. “Why would she worry?”

“I haven’t dated anyone in a long while.”

“Neither have I, so that makes two of us.” She paused, “Thank you for…everything,” her hand squeezing his lightly.

“You’re welcome.”

She had thought he might try to kiss her again, and when he didn’t, she couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Instead, he tucked the book under his arm and opened the door, their hands parting unwillingly.

“I’ll call you,” he told her with a smile, then started down the path to his truck.

She smiled back, then a thought came to her. “Jorah.”

He stopped and turned to find her a few steps from him. “Yes?”

“I’m having a Christmas party and I’d really like you to be there.”

He hadn’t been invited to one of those in quite a long time, but the idea of attending Daenerys’ sounded wonderful. “I’d love to.”

“Great,” she beamed, closing the distance between them to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’ll text you the details. ‘Night Jorah.”

“Goodnight Daenerys.”

He watched to make sure she got back inside safely, waiting for her to wave from the window. He did so back, then walked to his truck with a spring in his step and his cheek still tingling from her kiss. Once in the driver’s seat, he pulled out his mobile and noted one missed text from Lyanna three hours ago: **_See you tomorrow…maybe?_** , followed by a smirking emoji.

Jorah shook his head and chuckled, he had no idea so much time had passed being with Daenerys. It had felt like minutes and he already missed her. He started his truck, knowing he’d call her tomorrow and ask her to have coffee with him again.


	4. The Perfect Christmas

“I didn’t know you liked this series.”

“What?” Lyanna held up the book. “Oh, Daenerys lent it to me. It’s a series?”

“Yeah, a popular one too. There are rumors they’re going to make it into a TV show.”

“I’m not surprised, it’s quite good.”

Lyanna noted the placement of Jorah’s bookmark. “Gods, you read fast! You’ve only had it two days.”

Taking a seat on the couch beside her, Jorah drank from his mug. I had been a long day at the lot, but they had made quite a bit of money, more than they had the previous year at around the same time. “Like I said, it’s good.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she remarked, setting it back on the coffee table.

“Not willing to stray from your espionage novels?”

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’.

Jorah chuckled, to which she shot him a playful glare. “Well, at least they aren’t those ponderous tomes you read. They could double as doorstops.”

“Hey, those are big words. That calendar I bought you is finally paying off.”

“Piss off,” she shoved him, laughing.

And now Jorah was too. His relationship with his cousin had been stilted when they had first started working together, but as time passed and they spent more time on the farm and at the lot, they’d grown quite close. Lyanna would never admit it how much she enjoyed being around him, she always projected an air of strength and capability, a mask that only truly slipped away when she was in his presence. Her mother had been gone a little over six months now and Jorah knew that the loss had affected her greatly. Jorah missed Maege too and saw bits of her in Lyanna, especially the way she teased him.

“How was your ‘coffee date’ with Daenerys,” her fingers air quoting the reason Jorah had been gone for an hour earlier that day.

“Good,” he smiled softly, “ _Great_.”

“You two make my teeth hurt you’re so sweet together.” Lyanna toyed with a loose thread on her sweater, “Do you think this’ll become something serious?”

Jorah looked over at his cousin, her sudden change in demeanor had him curious. “I…don’t know. Why?”

She sighed, “Mum used to talk about—

“ _Don’t_.”

Lyanna wasn’t scared by the cantankerous bear Jorah could sometimes be. “What I was going to say, if you’d let me finish, was about how you’d had your heart broken and how that bitch,” Jorah’s eyebrows rose, “mum’s words, not mine; had treated you. I just wanted to say, based on what I know, is that Daenerys isn’t anything like _her_.”

Jorah felt thrown for a loop. What he had originally expected, a lecture about falling in love too fast and making the same mistake twice, was quite the opposite. Lyanna liked Daenerys, which brought some of the happiness back to his heart. And she seemed genuinely glad that he’d finally met someone.

“She isn’t,” he agreed, “far from it.”

“Ugh, you’re nauseating me again.”

And Jorah knew why, that silly grin every time he thought of Daenerys must be plastered on his face again. The feel-good conversation was over and the teasing Lyanna was back in fine form.

“You’ll understand this feeling one day.”

“I hope not,” she grimaced, making a gagging sound, even though her eyes said otherwise.

*~*

“What’s that?”

“I’m working on my gift for Daenerys.”

“A sketch,” she said flatly, “how… _quaint_.”

“No,” he grumbled, “I’m working out the dimensions and measurements on paper first.”

“Oh, well, carry on then.”

Lyanna took a seat opposite him at their small dining table, opening her book and bringing her feet up onto the chair’s cushion. Their rented flat was tiny, but it suited their needs for the time they were there. Daenerys’ party was a mere week away and what had been excitement had morphed into a mild case of nerves. Jorah really wasn’t the party type, he preferred one-on-one to large groups. It probably had to do with the fact that he wasn’t a big talker. Not that he didn’t have opinions or views on things, he just didn’t feel the need to share them. But this time, he was going for Daenerys, so he hadn’t hesitated in saying ‘yes’.

And thinking of Daenerys brought Jorah back to the conversation he’d had a few days back with Lyanna. He remembered how the elation of his new feelings for Daenerys had popped like a balloon, replaced with a sick feeling low in his stomach. He hadn’t thought of _her_ in a very long time and he had wanted to keep it that way. Married too quickly, his bride had ended up hating the farm and life on the island and had left him the first opportunity she had, the divorce papers arriving a few days later. Heartbroken, he’d sent them back as fast as he could, signed in a drunken scrawl. Surprisingly, or not, she hadn’t asked for anything, which should have tipped Jorah off to something. The answer to his question of ‘why?’ came in the form of a newspaper article and picture, her on the arm of some automotive CEO. She looked… _kept_ , which Jorah supposed is what she had truly wanted all along. There apparently wasn’t enough money in trees for her. He’d used the newspaper for kindling and had gotten blindly drunk that night.

He shook his head, refusing to allow _her_ to invade his thoughts any further. Jorah was over her, had moved on, and was exceedingly happy with where his life was at the moment. And that had nearly everything to do with Daenerys. Getting back to work, he slid his ruler over and made a mark designating where he planned to add a personal touch to the gift. Sitting back, he was satisfied with how it looked so far. He had wanted it to be meaningful. Unique. Something she couldn’t find in any shop. And now, looking at his final sketch, he knew this was the perfect choice.

*~*

Jorah stood in front of his small open closet, completely at a loss. What does one wear to a Christmas party? Should he have bought one of those ugly sweaters everyone loved? He shuddered at the thought. A dress shirt, tie, and slacks? _Too formal._ Or maybe just the shirt and slacks, no tie, a button or two undone? It wasn’t like he had those items available anyway, so those ideas were out the window. Gods, he didn’t know, his head falling against the wooden door with a soft thunk.

“Don’t know what to wear, cousin?”

He groaned, “No.”

Lyanna appeared beside him. “Hmm, well, presented with this array of flannel, I suppose I’d have a hard time choosing too.”

He shot her a withering look from the corner of his eye.

“Did she say what to wear?”

“No.”

“Okay, dressy casual it is.” She reached for a navy Henley and then a somewhat lighter blue long sleeve button-up shirt. Pushing them to him, she turned and went for the chest of drawers, opening the top one to pull out a pair of dark wash jeans. “Wear these with that nice leather belt you have, not the ratty one you have on now.”

Jorah would have glanced down to look had his arms not been full of clothes.

“Oh, and wear this,” Lyanna popped back into the closet and grabbed his dark brown leather jacket, tossing it to him.

“What’s wrong with the denim one?”

“It smells like a tree farm and not in a good way. Besides, I overheard a woman mumble you looked ‘hot AF’ in the leather one.”

“Hot AF,” Jorah repeated, clearly bewildered.

“Hot as f—”

“Oh,” he realized, blushing.

Lyanna clapped once. “Come on, you’ve got an hour. Don’t wanna be late.”

“Right,” he chuckled nervously and made his way to the bathroom.

Lyanna shook her head, glancing down at Spenser who had been watching the whirlwind of activity with rapt attention, “He’s impossible.”

The dog barked once in agreement.

*~*

Adjusting his collar one last time as he walked to Daenerys’ door, he shuffled her gift nervously in his hands. The brown box was fastened with twine, a shortcut to actual wrapping paper. He was all thumbs when it came to that sort of thing and Lyanna was no better. He hoped that Daenerys would overlook the less than desirable outside and love what was inside. Laughter filtered softly through the door as he rang the bell, shifting from one foot to the other while he waited.

The door swung open and all he could do was stare. Daenerys was a vision in cranberry, the color setting off her pale skin perfectly. The cap sleeve dress hugged her curves down to the skirt, which flowed around her thighs to just above her knees. Her heels were the same color and strappy, and despite their height, she still had to look up at him.

“Jorah,” she grinned, seemingly oblivious to his gob smacked expression. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Daenerys,” he finally blurted out, clearing his throat before he spoke again. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she ducked her head, smiling.

When she looked up again, Jorah noticed how her eyes moved over him slowly, taking in his attire, her lip tucking between her teeth when she got to his leather jacket. _Nice choice, Lyanna._

“You’re pretty handsome yourself.”

It was Jorah’s turn to be bashful as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Uh, this is for you. Happy Christmas.”

“Jorah, you—whoa, that’s heavy,” she said as she took the box from him, his hands darting out to steady her own.

They shared a laugh and she stepped back, “Come in out of that cold.”

“I hadn’t really noticed.”

“Oh right, Bear Island’s probably much colder.”

“Yes.”

Daenerys balanced his gift on one hip and closed the door behind them as he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on one of the empty coat pegs nearby. He followed her into the sitting room, noting only two other guests were there so far, a young woman and man.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, then stepped away from him.

Daenerys set the box under the tree and barely had a chance to turn around before she felt Missi’s hand on her upper arm, “Whoa, that’s Jorah?!”

“Missi,” Daenerys hissed, “you’re attached!”

“I know, I can still admire the male form.” She grinned, glancing back at Jorah one last time, “Nice catch!”

Daenerys shook her head and looked over to find Jorah staring at her, a small smile on his lips. She hoped he hadn’t overheard any of that conversation, but even if he did, at least it was complimentary.

“Introduce me,” Missi nudged, so Daenerys led her over.

“Jorah, this is my best friend Missandei.”

He took her hand in a friendly shake, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Daenerys has said so many wonderful things about you.”

“Is that so,” Jorah glanced her way, laughter dancing in his eyes.

“You personally delivered her this gorgeous tree for starters,” she gushed. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he deflected.

Daenerys changed the subject. “Jorah, can I get you something to drink? Wine? Soda? Something else?”

“Soda’s fine. Thank you.” She started to walk away, but he asked, “Do you want some help?”

“It’s okay, I got it.”

“Let me introduce you to my boyfriend,” Missi said, leading him over to where a young man sat quietly.

Daenerys dashed off to the kitchen, took a soda from the fridge, and poured it into a glass. When she came back, she found Jorah sitting opposite Grey and Missi, nodding at something she had said. When he saw she had returned, he stood and waited until she stopped beside him, taking the proffered glass. “Thank you.”

Then they both sat, nearly in sync. Daenerys didn’t miss how her friend’s eyebrows rose or how she hid her smirk in her wine glass. She picked up hers and sipped, listening to Jorah ask Grey about his military service. They chatted for a while, eating the hors d’oeuvres Daenerys had made. She was so pleased at how well Jorah fit in with her friends. She hadn’t really worried that he wouldn’t, but she had seen his shyness and had wondered if it would factor into his ability to have a good time.

While Missi was relating a hilarious mishap she’d had translating for a visiting Prime Minister, it gave Daenerys the opportunity to really look at Jorah. She had mistakenly not mentioned the dress code for the party, but he could have worn a burlap sack and she would have still thought he was gorgeous. His shirt really brought out his eyes and clung to his broad shoulders. He had rolled up the sleeves at some point, baring his forearms, ones she had already had the chance to ogle. His jeans looked comfortable, but still fitted enough that it showed off the lean strength of his thighs, something she had felt first hand that night at the lot. _And don’t get me started on that leather jacket,_ she thought, _it should be illegal._ Gods, she needed to stop staring, but it was really hard not to.

After a while, dinner was ready and everyone gathered around a smaller table Daenerys had rented for the evening. She felt silly using that huge banquet table, and besides, this was far more intimate. Everyone complimented her on the food, even Grey, who never really said very much unless asked directly. This was just the kind of Christmas she had always wanted, surrounded by people she cared about and who cared for her in return, sharing in laughter and the joy of the season. When they were done, everyone cleared their own dishes and sat down again in the sitting room.

Daenerys took out four sheets of paper and four pens. “All right, it’s time for a party game.” She handed one of each to everyone. “This game is just like bingo. Check off each box that applies to you. When you have five in a row, column, or diagonally, you win. Now, go off on your own so we can’t see each other’s papers.”

Jorah slid down to the end of the sofa and turned his paper over, scanning the boxes for things he could check off.

Ridden a horse? _Yes._

Gotten a speeding ticket? _Regrettably_.

Been drunk before? _Sadly, yes_.

Fainted or thrown up in public? _Unfortunately, the latter_.

Visited another country? _Several_.

Know the titles of _The Lord of The Rings_ books? _Yes…and read them_.

Able to dance? _I'm no Fred Astaire, but sure_.

Jorah wondered if his woodworking ability could be considered a unique talent. He checked the box just in case.

I know the lyrics to ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ by Rick Astley? _Oh gods,_ he thought. How many times had he heard that song on the long, lonely drives to and from Bear Island, only to find himself singing along? It stopped, however, when Lyanna started working with him. He checked that box begrudgingly.

Once he looked over his board and checked off the last few that applied to him, he found he had _two_ bingos.

“Everyone done,” Daenerys asked as they grouped back together. “Who has a bingo?”

She, Missi, and Jorah all raised their hands. Grey, they discovered, was one square short.

“So, now we share a story about each of our squares. Jorah, since you have a column and a row, you can choose just one of them.”

Missi went first, then it was Daenerys’ turn, and, finally, Jorah’s.

As midnight drew closer, Missi and Grey decided to call it an evening. After many wishes of a ‘Happy Christmas’, complete with handshakes and hugs, it was just Daenerys and Jorah left.

“I can't wait to find out what's in this box.” She hefted the large rectangular item, along with a red gift bag, from under the tree over to the sofa and set it on the coffee table. “Here, open yours first.”

“Daenerys, you didn't need to get me anything,” Jorah said as he took the present from her.

“Yes, I did. Everyone deserves something on Christmas.”

He smiled at her generosity, somehow guessing she had a kind heart despite her past struggles. Reaching inside the bag, past the red and white tissue paper, he pulled out a pair of finely tooled tan leather work gloves, the lining a green flannel pattern. By the suppleness of the animal hide, he could tell they were likely expensive.

He looked up to find her gazing at him expectantly, “Try them on, I was worried about the sizing.”

Jorah slipped one on, testing it by making a fist a few times. It was just as the old saying went. “They're perfect. Thank you.”

“Great,” she exclaimed, “I'm glad you like them.”

“How did you know I needed a new pair?”

“I didn't, I just thought the gloves would be something you could get a lot of use from.”

Only then did Jorah feel the embossing by the cuff, 'JM', in block capital letters. He smiled at her, moved by the personal touch.

“Open yours,” he urged, nerves fluttering in his stomach.

She undid the simple twine and pulled off the lid, gasping softly when she saw the contents. Daenerys gaped as she slowly lifted the book stand and set it on her lap. She didn’t know what type of wood it was made out of, but it appeared to be finished with a lacquer that left a matte sheen, bringing out the beautiful grain. But it was the carving that left her speechless, her vision blurring as she delicately traced the dragon with her fingertips. It was just like she had always pictured, the creature's mighty wings raised in flight, its giant maw wide open, flashing dangerous teeth. 'The discovery of the Queen's dragon', a scene she knew by heart and one that meant a great deal not only to the character, but to her too. How could Jorah have known? How could he have realized that before that moment the Queen had felt adrift...and so had Daenerys.

“If you don't like it, I—”

“No,” her hand darted out and gripped his, “this is...I can't even begin to tell you how perfect it is.”

But when her eyes met his, Jorah could see just how much it meant to her, shimmering in the moisture that made her eyes glitter like stars in the lights of the Christmas tree.

“You read the book, then,” she sniffled, a smile beginning to form on her lips. “I only gave it to you a short while ago.”

“I've always been a fast reader. It was quite good. I can see why you like it.”

The tender look in his eyes told her he understood the book's impact on her life. “Thank you, Jorah. Truly,” her hand squeezing his gently in emphasis.

“You're welcome, Daenerys.”

She set it up on the coffee table and sat back to admire it, looking at from several angles, “It’s big enough to hold a cookbook.”

“I remembered you loved to cook, so I purposefully made it big enough to accommodate them.”

Daenerys wasn't going to say it, but she thought Jorah was the sweetest man she'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. His gift was kind and thoughtful, not to mention, it must have taken him days to cut, carve, and put together the stand.

“Where did you learn how to do this?”

“My father taught me,” he said, his voice tinged with sadness. “He started me with small things when I was young and I found I was quite good at it. I was doing mantlepieces and moldings by the time I was a teenager. In my thirties, I restored some old homes.”

“That sounds amazing. Why did you stop?”

“My father had a fall and his back was never the same afterward. I took over day-to-day operations of the farm and he did most of the office work with his sister, Maege.”

“Oh, Lyanna's mom.” Jorah nodded. “Do you miss restoring houses?”

“Sometimes. I could do without the press though.”

“Press?” Her eyes widened in realization, “You were in the paper!?”

Jorah rubbed at the back of his neck, “It was just a piece in an issue of _This Old House_.”

“That's fantastic, Jorah!”

“It wasn't that big of a deal.”

“Seriously?! Your work was in a magazine! Not everyone can say that.”

He shrugged, blushing, obviously not used to being the center of attention or being praised. She liked that Jorah didn't have a huge ego to deal with. While she was sure he was probably proud of what he had done, he wasn't boastful about it. She'd had her fill of those types in her life and this was a refreshing change.

Making a mental note to look up the article later, Daenerys stood, gathering up the used plates from the party.

“Oh, you don't have to that,” Daenerys said when she noticed Jorah was collecting wine glasses. “You're my guest.”

“I don't mind helping,” he offered as he reached for the last goblet, three now in one hand.

Daenerys tried not to marvel at how easily, nor how carefully, he held the delicate crystal in his large hand. The thought led her mind to other, more _untoward_ thoughts, but she halted them before they could get too far. Glancing away helped too, as did keeping her hands busy, clearing up the last of the plates and used napkins.

“I guess men from the North don't mind getting their hands dirty.”

The moment the words left her mouth, Daenerys cringed, realizing she'd really stepped in it this time. But much to her surprise, just like the other times, she found Jorah smiling, his eyes alight with amusement and...mischief.

“Well, let it not be said that a northern man doesn't know what to do with his hands.”

There was no mistaking it now. Jorah was really and truly flirting with her. Even with her chronic case of foot-in-mouth-itis, he didn't seem to mind. He seemed to like her. _A lot_.

She had no response, save for the one her body gave, a blush spreading across her cheeks and a bloom of heat pooling low in her belly at the images Jorah's words planted in her brain.

“You're beautiful when you blush,” Jorah said softly. Then as if to correct himself, he held up his hand, “I mean, you're always beautiful, it’s just...”

Now he was the one tongue-tied and she thought it was adorable. “I know what you meant.”

She walked toward the kitchen, using her elbow to flip the switch, turning on the lights above the sink. It gave the room a soft, romantic glow that seemed to spotlight just the space where they stood.

“When I invited you to my party, you were probably expecting a lot of people.”

“Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect.” He set the glasses in the washbasin, “I was just happy you invited me.”

“So you weren’t nervous,” she asked, smirking.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jorah chuckled.

“I have acquaintances, people I work with. But I just wanted to have this Christmas with the people I really care about.”

Their eyes met, that familiar pull had them stepping closer. Jorah exuded heat like a fire and Daenerys wanted nothing more than to cocoon herself in it, safe in the knowledge that he would never burn her. At this angle, she had to look up at him, his baby blues moving leisurely over her face. Her palms came to rest on the warm, strong rise of his chest and she smiled softly at the quickened pace of his heart. His scent enveloped her, pine boughs and bark and earth after a rainstorm. She wanted to bury her nose in the soft fabric of his button-down and breathe him in until she could take no more. This close, she noticed a faint linear scar on his neck, and just below the hollow of his throat, a few strands of golden chest hair curled above the collar of his navy undershirt. Daenerys felt like they were standing on the precipice of something. _Take the plunge or back away._

Daenerys leapt.

“Jorah, I…I’ve never felt so strongly so fast for someone before,” her voice no louder than a whisper.

“I thought it was just me.”

He lifted his hand, hesitated, then cupped her jaw. She exhaled into his touch, encouraging him to find the curve of her waist with his other. He slid it slowly around to splay over her lower back, drawing her into his space, a mere hairsbreadth between them. Her hands trailed up and over the strong slant of his shoulders, her fingers slipping into the fluffy curls at the nape of his neck. He blinked slow at her touch; time seemingly unquantifiable.

“Are you real,” he breathed, a hint of awe in his eyes and words. She blushed, his thumb brushing it further over the roundness of her cheek. “Because every time I look at you, I—”

Rising on tiptoe, she pressed her lips against his parted ones, soft, sweet, and chaste. It was everything a first kiss should be: taking nothing, but promising everything.

He broke away first, drawing air deeply, shakily, into his lungs.

“Not enough,” she muttered against his lips and took them again.

This kiss she felt all the way to her toes, heady and intoxicating. Her fingers clutched at his curls, pulling him closer even as there was no more room between them. His arm banded around her waist, the other across her upper back, his hand engulfing, _cradling,_ the back of her head. The taste of him was indescribable, but Daenerys couldn’t get enough and it seemed Jorah felt the same about her.

Consumed in one another, neither Daenerys nor Jorah knew how long they lingered in the dizzying bliss, only that when they parted, their breathes refused to separate, mingling in the space between. Their foreheads rested gently against each other’s, his nose following the line of hers.

“Was that too fast?”

She shook her head slowly, “I’ve wanted to kiss you since our first coffee date.”

He groaned in exasperation, “So I wasn’t misreading that after all.”

“No,” she laughed softly, “I wanted to scream when you pulled back.”

He did this time, only enough so he could meet her eyes. “Next time, I won’t.”

“When’s next time,” she wondered aloud.

“How about now?”

Daenerys smiled as Jorah leaned in, sealing their lips once more.

_What a perfect end to a perfect Christmas,_ she mused, wrapped up in the arms of the man who was quickly stealing her heart.


	5. Restoration

“I feel like I slept in the clouds last night, Missi,” Daenerys sighed, flopping onto her back. “I still feel like I'm floating!”

“That great, huh?”

“It was...I have no words. Just...wow! I mean, his lips were so soft and he was so warm and it was...,” she hesitated, her fingertips hovering over her lips, her eyes closed, remembering...

“It was perfect,” Missi supplied, giggling at the dreamy sound of Daenerys' voice.

“Yeah, perfect.”

“That's great! And I forgot to tell you last night, but he has my seal of approval.”

“I figured you'd say that.” Her grin fell as she glanced at the clock at her bedside, “Ugh, I better get the day started. Talk to you soon!”

As they said their goodbyes, Daenerys got out of bed and walked to the window, peering between the drapes out into the crisp late morning. She'd decided earlier in the week that she'd go in late to work that day, just to clear up some last-minute paperwork before the new year. And little did she know at the time, it was the right decision. Being on cloud nine was not conducive to getting any serious work done. Daenerys was giddy about how things were progressing with Jorah and it was about time too. Drogo hadn't received her friend's approval and it should have been a sign, but she'd ignored it, too distracted by his exotic looks and towering masculinity. _Look how well that turned out_. Shaking her head from those depressing thoughts, she went to closet to pick out her clothes for the day and then off the ensuite to shower and get ready.

Bounding down the stairs a short while later, she danced her way into the kitchen, humming a modern holiday tune as she put some bread on to toast and popped a pod into her K-cup machine, placing her travel tumbler under the dispenser to catch the rich brew. Leaning back against the dark marble countertop, in almost the exact same place she'd pressed Jorah against when the fourth kiss grew more heated than the first three, she stood there grinning so big her cheeks hurt. Daenerys couldn't wait to see Jorah again, couldn't wait to look into those beautiful ocean blue pools, feel his arms wrap around her and hold her close, feel his lips mold to her own, his beard deliciously scratchy against her skin.

_ Last night _

Hand-in-hand, they walked to her front door, stealing glances, her kiss-swollen lip between her teeth, his hair askew from her wandering hands.

“I had a great time,” Jorah said as he came to a stop in her foyer.

“Me too. I'm really glad you were here tonight.” She stepped into his space, his hands coming to rest on her waist as if they'd done this dance a thousand times already.

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

She grinned. “I was just going to ask you that.” Her arms wove around his neck, “I'd love to.”

“I can't wait.” He leaned down and kissed her, nuzzling her nose when they parted.

She opened the door for him, but before he could leave, she reached out and grabbed his jacket, pulling him back.

Apparently four kisses weren’t enough.

This one grew in passion quickly and sent them stumbling, her back meeting the doorjamb hard enough to have Jorah mumbling _'sorry'_ between strokes of eager tongues. His hands slid down to her hips, the arousing strength holding her there, the scintillating possibilities of the sensations he could elicit from her, had her body screaming at her mind to ask him to stay.

Suddenly, a chilly breeze swirled around them, reminding her of where they were. Not wanting to give the neighbors anymore to gossip about, she drew back, giggling.

Jorah seemed to realize too, ducking his head with a bashful chuckle. When he met her gaze again, the amusement was still there, dancing in those gorgeous eyes.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” she said, rising up to kiss him briefly one last time.

“Goodnight Daenerys.”

“'Night Jorah.”

_ Present _

A beep brought her from her reminisce, signaling her coffee was ready.

Gathering her things and arming the security system, she set off for the bus stop with a spring in her step. And while she rode to work, she looked up Jorah's name on Google. There weren't many search results matching that entry, save for his business' website and his magazine feature. No social media presence, but she wasn't surprised about that. Jorah didn't seem the type. There were entries matching just his last name, however, a newspaper article about Lyanna Mormont's fencing championship win and her social accounts. But, right then, Daenerys was more interested in reading about Jorah's restoration.

Clicking the link, she was greeted with the headline ‘A Northern Renaissance’. Scrolling down a bit, she was greeted with a great photo of Jorah standing on the front deck, leaning against a post with his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. He was wearing a sky-blue button-up she'd never seen on him, but he certainly looked mighty fine in it. The smile on his lips looked very familiar and she found herself mirroring him, much to the interest of the passenger seated next to her.

"He's a looker," the lady remarked, glancing at her mobile's screen. "Your boyfriend?"

Daenerys hesitated, was Jorah her boyfriend? They'd been on three dates, but hadn't really discussed the nature of their relationship. "I think so."

"Well, you better snap him up before another woman swoops in and steals him away."

"I'll do that," Daenerys replied, laughing.

The lady went back to her reading and she went back to hers. The interviewer had asked Jorah all sorts of questions, about how the restoration process on this particular home had progressed, how he had gotten involved in such work in the first place, and what were his plans for the future. He had seemed to be exactly where he had wanted to be, restoring old homes to their former brilliance, and then, he'd had to stop. She felt for him, to be so good at something, only to have to make that difficult choice: family or career? She scrolled down further to find the before and after photos. To say his work was spectacular was an understatement, Jorah had true talent for transforming simple pieces into works of art. Case in point, the mantlepiece. It had once been just plain wood, but Jorah had replaced it with a much larger piece and had carved an intricate winter scene into it. It was truly beautiful.

Bookmarking the page for further reading, she put her mobile back into her purse and enjoyed the view for the rest of the ride. Once at the office, she started on the few files she needed to wrap up, and before she knew it, it was time for lunch. But instead of going for something to eat, she texted Jorah to see if he was free, and much to her happiness, he was. Daenerys walked the one block to the tree lot and rounded the corner to find all the trees gone, a large truck parked near the entrance. Inside, she saw Lyanna talking a young man she hadn't seen before, but assumed he must work for them.

"Hey Lyanna, is Jorah here," she called, waving her hello.

"Hey, yeah, he's in the trailer."

Making her way over to the squat building, she climbed the steps and knocked once on the doorjamb. Jorah turned, a smile breaking across his face. "Daenerys, I was just thinking about you."

"All good things, I hope?"

"Of course," he answered, wrapping his arm around her, his hand cupping her jaw. She sighed into his kiss, slow and sweet, feeling herself melt against him.

“I've been thinking about kissing you all morning.”

“Me too,” Jorah hummed happily, nuzzling her nose.

Daenerys sealed their lips, their tongues teasing, her hand buried in his curls, the other grasping the front of his flannel shirt. The kiss left them panting for air and grinning like fools.

“Your lips were made to be kissed,” he told her, his brushing softly against hers.

“Well, I'm glad I have someone for the job then,” she giggled.

This time, Jorah took the lead, leaving Daenerys’ whole body tingling and warm.

He was just about to go in for another one when a voice called out, “I'm coming in, you better be decent!”

Jorah blushed and Daenerys laughed as Lyanna walked in, her hand covering her eyes until her fingers hesitantly parted, then fell away. “Ah, good.” She looked at Jorah, “Gendry wants to know if you're taking the lights or if he should.”

“I'll be right there.”

Lyanna arched an eyebrow, but walked away.

“The lot looks weird without all the trees.”

“The composting company came early this morning. That's the largest part of shutting down.”

“You're leaving.”

Jorah's whole mood deflated. “Yes.”

Daenerys took two steps back, slipping from his embrace. “When?”

“Once everything's packed up.”

The air between them crackled with a different type of energy now. Hurt swam in Daenerys' eyes. “When were you going to tell me? When you were already gone?”

“What? No, I—”

“You what?” She took another step away and Jorah felt like the sun was setting, a chill seeping into his bones. “You were going to say 'sorry, it’s been nice, but it's over'.”

“No,” Jorah said defensively. “I was going to tell you, I just,” he sighed, his shoulders dropping, “got wrapped up in the way I felt about you.”

She looked away and Jorah didn't miss the small tremble in her chin.

“Daenerys,” he moved toward her, wanting to take her in his arms, to make her tears and sadness disappear. But when she half turned from him, as if his touch would burn her, Jorah's heart shattered. _Gods, this can't be happening. Do something,_ his mind screamed.

“Daenerys, we can talk every day and I'm sure there's some app that will let us see each other. And I can drive down on weekends and...”

He stopped his frantic plea when he noticed it didn't seem to be working.

“Long distance never works, Jorah.”

The resigned finality in her voice was the door slamming on their relationship. But if anything, Jorah was a fighter and he wasn't going to let her go without laying everything on the line.

“ _We_ can make it work. I don't want to lose you, not when I've started falling for you.”

A tear streaked down her cheek. “I already have.” She rubbed away the glistening trail with a sharp swipe. “That's what I get for letting my heart decide things.”

She stormed from the office, the hard thud of her booted heels retreating like a hammer driving the final nail into what could have been.

It took Jorah's body a second to catch up with what was going on, then he was running after her, calling her name, but she didn't react. The best thing that had ever happened to him was walking out of his life, and for the first time that day, Jorah felt...powerless.

Daenerys was long gone before he turned away and trudged back to the office with a heavy heart. He slumped into his chair, his mind running over and over what just happened, trying to find out where things had gone so horribly wrong. He tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail.

“What happened?”

Jorah found Lyanna standing in the doorway. _We broke up._ He couldn't say it, wouldn't give voice to it.

“She's gone,” was all he could muster.

  
**

Soulful amber eyes gazed up at him, Spenser resting his head on Jorah's knee. He absent-mindedly stroked the dog's ear, lost in his thoughts.

“I know you liked her, Spens. So did I...so much.” The animal let out a soft whine, as if he understood and felt his dad's pain. Jorah let out a long breath, “I miss her already.”

“Hey, you got a minute?”

“Sure,” he said half-heartedly, his eyes lifting to meet Gendry's.

“What if I told you I had a way to fix things between you and Daenerys?”

“How do you know about her?”

“Well, I did see her storm outta here a short while ago.” He leaned against the entryway, “Lyanna told me the rest. Anyway, I came here to offer you an opportunity.”

“Such as?”

“Last year, I flipped my first house. It was a pretty big success, so I decided to do it again, only this time, expand my horizons a little.”

“How does this help me?”

“The house I just bought is not twenty minutes from here.”

Jorah perked up a bit at that revelation, but he didn't get how it related to his current situation. “I still don't follow.”

“The house needs a bit of work in other areas: plumbing, brick, etcetera. But what it mostly needs is woodwork.” Gendry could practically see the dots connecting in Jorah's head. “And that's where you come in. I wouldn't trust anyone else to do this work cause I know how detail-oriented you are. I'd pay you of course and you could live there while you worked. It'll take at least 5 months.” Gendry grinned, “I think that's enough time to see where things go between you and Daenerys.”

Jorah stood, somewhat bewildered by his sudden good fortune. “I...”

“Look, you gave me a job when I really needed one. I'm just returning the favor.”

“Thank you,” was all Jorah could get out, his mood turning swiftly.

“No problem.”

Given this opportunity, all Jorah had left to do was fix things with Daenerys. “I have to go.”

He grabbed his keys and jacket and made for the door. But he stopped, realizing much of the lot still needed to be taken down. Gendry seemed to understand, “Lyanna and I’ve got this. Go get her back.”

Then Jorah was running for his truck, Spenser in tow. He paused at the cab, but Lyanna yelled, “What are you doing, cousin?! Go!”

Jorah smiled and got in, Spenser jumping in after and taking his usual seat on the passenger side. Starting the engine, he pulled from the lot and headed towards Daenerys', formulating what he was going to say to win her back.

_ Across town _

“Daenerys, I'm saying this as a friend, I think you may have jumped the gun a bit.”

“He wasn't gonna tell me, Missi.”

“You don't know that.”

“I don't,” she sniffled, squeezing the wadded-up tissues in her hand. “Jorah had two weeks and never mentioned anything. He only said something because I asked.”

“I don't think that's true. Jorah isn't like that.”

Deep down, she knew her friend was right. Even if he hadn't said anything, she should have guessed he wouldn't be there long past Christmas. And she hadn't really given Jorah a chance to explain. He _had_ said he was going to tell her and he was otherwise sincere. He had even reached out to her when he saw she was crying, but she had stupidly turned away. Now, more than anything else, she wanted his arms around her.

“I've really mucked this up, haven't I?”

“He tried calling and texting you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I think he definitely wants to reconcile.”

“But long distance, it's...,” Daenerys sighed.

“Just because it didn't work with Drogo doesn't mean it won't, and I think will, work with Jorah.”

Things with Drogo had failed spectacularly the moment he'd moved across the sea. Not that they had been great to be begin with. He was too absorbed in his work breeding champion horses for racing that he had never really known her or took much interest in the things she liked. Jorah was the polar opposite and she'd screwed it up royally.

“I'm gonna try calling him.”

“Let me know what happens. I'm pulling for you two,” Missi encouraged.

Just as Daenerys was hanging up, her doorbell rang.

_Maybe that's him,_ she hoped.

Making her way to the door, she opened it to find a mildly harried and slightly out of breath Jorah, his hair mussed up as if he'd been running his hand through it many times.

Neither one said anything at first, his eyes moving over her face before stopping at her own, puffy and redden by her time spent crying. His brows tensed and she saw the guilt swimming in those baby blues.

“I'm so sorry, Daenerys,” his voice rasped, thick with pent up emotion.

Wavering tears welled and spilt over, but before she could swipe them away, large warm hands were cradling her face, Jorah's thumbs wiping at the glittering trails left in their wake.

She drew a shaky breath and leaned into his touch, placing her hands over his, holding him to her as if he was her lifeline.

“Please forgive me.” He swallowed roughly, “I should have told you.”

Daenerys couldn't find her voice, could only look into those gentle, soft eyes and see the sincerity of his words, that he meant them deep in his heart.

She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms tight around his torso and burying her face in the softness of his long sleeve shirt. He held her close, kissing the top of her head and whispering his apology again.

“I'm sorry, Jorah, I over-reacted,” she said, leaning back to look up at him. “I didn't even give you a chance to explain. I—”

“It doesn't matter now, Daenerys,” Jorah soothed, brushing the hair back from her temples. “I'm not leaving.”

“What,” she gasped, her eyes widening.

“Yes, this young man that works at our farm, Gendry, has offered me the opportunity to restore a home nearby. He's into flipping houses,” Jorah shrugged, “whatever that means.”

“So, you're staying?”

The hope blooming in Daenerys' eyes had a tender smile pulling at Jorah's lips. “Yes, I'm not going anywhere.”

A happy sob burst from her as she pulled Jorah into a kiss.

An excited bark interrupted them and Daenerys peeked around Jorah to see Spenser doing a happy dance in Jorah's passenger seat, his tail wagging so furiously his hind end was moving. “Is Spenser staying too?”

Jorah nodded and whistled, the dog launching himself through the open window to run to them. He rose on his hind paws and wormed his way between them, making them laugh.

“He's happy to be staying,” Daenerys remarked, ruffling his fur.

“And so am I,” Jorah agreed, catching Daenerys' eye with a soft, fond expression.

Christmas, a holiday that had once held no joy for her, had now given her the greatest gift of all: _love_. 


End file.
